Photo by Raphaelstrada via Flickr

The Press Secretary’s Tale

This is the fifth tale in the ongoing series, The Canterbury Tales — Trump Style. To read the Prologue and the other tales in the series, click here.

“Settle down! Settle down! Settle down!”
Thus begins my daily press dance.
I gaze out from the podium,
Thank god for my Imodium,
And pray Jesus I do not shit my pants.

As Press Secretary my job is this:
To brief the nation’s journos every morn.
I face that frothing mob,
Like Donnie’s Baghdad Bob,
And display my displeasure and my scorn.

I had done similar work in my past,
And had support from the Potomac Flacks.
Priebus was my fan.
He said “Spicey is our man!”
“He can handle those lyin’ snowflake hacks!”

When I stepped into this position,
I let the press corps know my views.
I scolded CNN,
Would not call on them again,
And made it clear I would favor Breitbart “News”.

Those libtards are obsessed with facts;
Bannon warned this would be the case.
He recommended a position:
“Fuckin’ slay the opposition.
And do so while keeping a straight face.”

Take the inaugural crowd estimates.
Talk about liberal media skew!
Fox counted millions,
Trump counted billions.
The failing NYT? Three hundred forty-two.

It’s true, you know, that stuff about my clothes.
I was coached through my sartorial gaffe.
“Get a smaller size
Buy some Chinese ties,
And cut the lapel width by at least one-half.”

A big part of the problem, you should know,
Is something for which I was unprepar-ed:
I work with losers,
F Troop and boozers,
And live in dread fear “he’ll go to Jared”.

For example, the wire tapping stuff
And all those tweets where the boss did rave.
Kellyanne trotted along,
Got the whole thing wrong,
And placed Obama in the microwave.

Who can work in conditions such as these?
Why, it’s the biggest shit show I’ve ever seen.
A bunch of back stabbers
And a few pussy grabbers.
And Trump claims this is a well-oiled machine!

The latest flap may prove my undoing:
Where I went for a compassionate façade.
I tried to slam Syria,
And therein foment hysteria;
But unfortunately, mispronounced the name “Assad”.

That was only the beginning, however,
And things went waaay downhill after that.
I talked about the sarin,
Did the Hitler/Ashar comparin’
And ended up looking quite the ignorant twat.

All this happened on Passover, no less,
And the Jews are calling for termination.
Streisand’s in the mix
(She should stick to making pics)
Twitter’s trending #ZyklonB and #extermination.

Will I still have a job this time next week?
Well, we will just have to wait and see.
Is the Holocaust Center hiring?
You know, in case there is a firing?
And will Conn College demand I give back my degree?

Don’t count old Spicey out just yet.
Don’t throw my bloodied corpse to the mob.
’Cause if they fire my ass
Here’s what comes to pass:
There’s not a soul out there who’d take this fuckin’ job.

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